


Floating Away

by CrazyKater



Category: Starsky & Hutch
Genre: Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-24
Updated: 2015-05-24
Packaged: 2018-03-31 22:33:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3995566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyKater/pseuds/CrazyKater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>*Not written from a slash perspective but can be read either way*</p>
<p>Starsky has a hard time bouncing back from a particularly traumatizing case.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Floating Away

Prologue: 

"I loved her not for the way she danced with my angels, but for the way the sound of her name could silence my demons." -Christopher Poindexter

There were days when Starsky would feel like he were slipping away from reality. Like nothing was real, and his whole life up until this point was just a dream. Like maybe he could just disappear, and it would be as if he never existed. 

Starsky was good enough at hiding it. Most people wouldn't even notice, but not Hutch. Hutch always noticed. 

Those were the days when Starsky found himself reaching out to Hutch, even if it was unconsciously. A touch here, grabbing the back of his shoulder, leaning into him a little more heavily than necessary, or sitting on the arm of his chair.  
The blonde man’s calm presence providing Starsky a mixture of comfort and strength. 

Then there were days when Starsky wouldn’t reach out. When he felt he couldn’t reach out, and he would retreat so inside himself he wasn’t sure he would ever get back out. Hutch always seemed to know about those days too. 

Those were the days when Hutch would reach out to Starsky. He’d cup his neck or arm. A quick bend in posture to force eye contact which served to anchor Starsky to reality. 

These moments communicated a simple message. A phrase that was always left unspoken, but one that Starsky could still hear clearly. I am here. Let me bring you back. Hold on to me. 

It’s funny how the simplest moments in life can break us. The ordinary everyday things that make everything too much to handle. 

For Starsky, that moment of realization had come suddenly. A lost perp serving as the perfect catalyst for his impending meltdown. 

The sense of frustration and failure was overwhelming, and before Starsky knew what he was doing, he had taken his defeat out on a concrete wall. Knuckles afire with stinging pain, it was then Starsky realized the truth he had been trying so desperately to run from.

Knees on the ground, forehead resting against the concrete wall, tears had welled in his eyes, and it was then it occurred to him that he actually was still very much alive. A thought that terrified him, because it would be so much easier just to be dead.

Starsky was sobbing in earnest by the time Hutch caught up to him. He hadn’t heard Hutch approach, and he remained totally unaware of the other man until he was pulled from the ground and gathered into strong, supporting arms. 

“It’s ok,” Hutch whispered into his ear, just for the two of them to hear. His words providing Starsky with momentary solace. “It isn’t always going to be like this.” 

It was then that Starsky chose to believe Hutch. His Hutch. A man that was always so willing to silence his demons, even if it was only for a moment. 

Chapter One: 

Present Day 

The pair stood, in awkward silence in the middle of Starsky’s kitchen. Starsky wanting desperately to disappear, and Hutch wondering when things between them had become so strained. 

His eyes averted, it was Starsky’s timid voice that broke the silence.

“Do you think Dobey remembers what I said?” 

The question was ludicrous, and Hutch almost snorted, but he held back. This was not the normal Starsky he was dealing with, and the statement wasn’t meant as a joke. It was the serious inquiry from a man who was slowly loosing grip on his sanity. 

Hutch wanted to say, ‘Yes, Starsk, I am fairy certain that Captain Dobey will remember you calling him a hack and a liar.’ But he held back on that too. 

Of course that hadn’t been all Starsky had done, while the three of them were behind the closed door of Dobey’s small office. Starsky had lost it, and all Hutch could do was sit, his mouth agape, as his curly haired partner stood and vehemently whirled a dictionary of interesting insults, peppered with obscenities, at their superior. 

“Oh,” Hutch sighed finally, squeezing at the bridge of his nose. “I think those words may stick with him for a while.” I know I’ll never forget them. 

Starsky’s face fell and so did his eyes, they set firmly on the toes of his blue Adidas. He sighed thickly and Hutch turned his own eyes to the brown cupboard and thought about what his partner had done. 

Hutch had never been so uncomfortable, and he had never seen Dobey so shocked. The large man’s surprise it didn’t last, however, and astonishment quickly turned to anger as he kicked Starsky out of his office and sent him home. 

Hutch had wanted to follow, but Dobey had held him back. It was then, Hutch was given explicit instructions. And those orders were why he found himself standing awkwardly in front of his skittish partner, as he tried to find the proper words to strip his best friend of the only bit of comfort he had left. 

“I… uh,” Hutch faltered turning his gaze back Starsky. He watched as the shorter man sniffled and wiped his nose on his shirt sleeve. 

Starsky cleared his throat and made eye contact. Hutch was overwhelmed by the red rimmed, dark circled, dull blue eyes. And it was then that Hutch realized, Starsky already knew what was going to happen, he was just waiting for the words. 

“I need your gun, pal,” Hutch whispered. Starsky didn’t move. Either anchored in place by stubbornness, or fear. 

“No,” he whispered thickly. His eyes pleading with Hutch. Please don’t go through with this. It’s the only thing that makes me feel safe.

“Please,” Starsky tried thickly, tears filling his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” Hutch whispered back. He had to swallow against the growing lump in his throat. This was killing him, but it had to be done.

“I have to,” he added softly, his eyes begging for Starsky to please just understand. To not hate him for what he was doing. 

Inhaling a shaky breath, Starsky nodded. He bit his bottom lip and moved his hands to unclip his gun from his shoulder holster. He didn’t meet Hutch’s eyes, as his unsteady hands presented the blonde man with the weapon. 

Fighting tears, Hutch forced a smile. “Thanks, buddy,” he whispered. “I need your back up too.” 

Starsky’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and he walked slowly to his bedroom. Hutch heard him rustling through what had to be his dresser drawer, and a minute later the smaller gun was being placed in hands. 

And suddenly, the whole scene just seemed so wrong. Hutch wanted to scream that Starsky could keep the gun. That he understood what the weapon represented, and it was okay, but he didn’t. The fear inside his heart of what would happen when Starsky lost his grip completely stopped him. 

This had to be done. 

Hutch looked up to find Starsky’s expression had changed. Gone was the defeat and the hurt, only to be replaced by something more sinister. 

“Get the fuck out,” Starsky demanded quietly. 

Hutch wanted to tell him no, but he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head sadly, his partner’s words enforcing the reality of just how much the man had changed. 

Starsky was a chameleon, his control over his emotions wavering moment to moment. His control over anything nonexistent, as the people who cared about him the most were forced to stand back and watch the man unravel. 

“Okay,” Hutch whispered. He knew, at least for that day, he was no longer welcome. His heart heavy with sadness and his partner’s guns in his hands, Hutch left. 

Making his way down to his dented LTD, Hutch couldn’t help but feel that maybe he should have taken all of Starsky’s steak knives and any other object the man could use as a weapon to hurt himself. But that was a battle for another day, and Hutch found himself desperately praying they would get to have another day. 

Please God, let there be another day. 

 

Chapter Two: 

Three Months Prior

The first thing he became aware of was the screams. Loud, high-pitched shrieks coming from a girl who should have never had cause to yell that way. She was young, he knew that much. Somewhere in the back of his weary mind he realized she had been in the basement with him, and he had promised her that he would keep her safe. 

The second thing he became aware of was the pain. He had never felt anything so intense. His body felt on fire and numb at the same time, and he found himself wondering how on earth such a thing could be possible. 

Just as suddenly as she started, the young girl stopped screaming. He wondered if their captor had finally killed her or if she had just passed out. He closed his eyes in dread, realizing that either way it didn’t matter. Either way he had failed her. 

He fought panic when he heard the creaking of the basement door and the solid sound of footsteps on the stairs. Panic turned to terror as he saw his captor, splattered in blood and grinning wildly, standing before him. 

He wanted to scream, but his voice failed him. And in the depths of his soul he knew one thing. This was the end of the road; no one could help him now, but even still he found his mind screaming the same appeal. 

‘Please, Hutch. I’m running out of time.” 

XX

Current Day

Hutch let out a weary breath as he knocked on Starsky’s door. It was early, but that wasn’t the reason for his tiredness. He had spent the previous night struggling to obtain any real rest, his mind too burdened with worry for his partner. 

He transferred the paper bag he held from one hand to the other. The bag contained a danish from Starsky’s favorite bakery on the south side of town. It meant to be a peace offering, a subtle apology for stripping Starsky of his weapons the day before. Hutch just hoped it would be welcome. 

Moments later, when Starsky had yet to answer his front door, Hutch fought anxiety and the sudden urge to break down the door. Something felt wrong, but then again what didn’t feel wrong these days? 

“Starsk?” he called out as he knocked again. He forced and deep a breath and counted to ten. When his partner still hadn’t answered the door, he pulled his key ring out of this front pocket and unlocked the door. 

The curtains were drawn and the apartment was dark, but even so, Hutch could still see the disaster area that was his partner’s living quarters. It wasn’t so much the mess that was bothersome to Hutch, but that fact his normally neat freak partner had been the one to leave it behind.

Under normal circumstances Starsky would never allow his apartment to look like this. Christ, Hutch couldn’t so much as leave a glass on the kitchen counter without Starsky immediately placing it in the sink. 

“Starsk?” Hutch tried again as his eyes darted about the living room. Starsky was nowhere to be found. 

Hutch let out a sigh and abandoned the danish on the kitchen counter. He made his way to Starsky’s bedroom and peaked through the cracked door. 

There, in the darkness of the room, spread out haphazardly across the bed was his partner. 

Hutch’s relief was short lived, however, as he immediately wondered why Starsky hadn’t heard him knock or call his name. 

“Starsky?” he whispered as he walked to the side of the bed. 

Starsky snored softly and Hutch’s gaze focused on the small prescription bottle and half empty water glass on the nightstand. Hutch’s eyebrows rose as he read the label, sleeping pills. Well, that would do it.

Breathing a relieved sigh, Hutch bent to retrieve the sheet and blanket that Starsky had kicked off. He re-covered his slumbering partner, thankful that the dark haired man had finally decided take the pills and get a good night’s rest. 

Reaching out his hand to the mop of curls, Hutch hesitated, his hand lingering over the man’s head, before smoothing them back and resting it there. He stayed like that for a couple of moments before pulling back. 

“Sleep good, pal,” he whispered. 

Exiting the bedroom, Hutch quickly decided he wasn’t leaving, at least not until Starsky was conscious enough to kick him out. He wandered to the kitchen, put on a pot of coffee, and re-assessed the messy apartment. 

Well, Starsky may not want Hutch to help him work through the trauma he had been through, but at least Hutch could help him keep his apartment clean.  
With a heavy sigh, Hutch began the dreaded task. 

XX 

Starsky slept into the early hours of the afternoon. Hutch was settled into his partner’s couch working his way through a novel, when a disheveled Starsky finally emerged from his dark bedroom. 

“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty,” Hutch greeted with a smile. 

Starsky blinked his gritty eyes, and grunted in return. He adjusted the waist of his pajama bottoms, and itched at his naked stomach, before allowing himself a yawn and stretch. 

“How long have you been here?” Starsky asked on the tail end of his stretch. 

“Well… I’ve been here long enough to clean,” Hutch joked.

Starsky yawned again, and his bleary eyes took in his clean living space. He didn’t say a word. And stuck with the momentary silence, Hutch started doubting if sticking around was that good of an idea after all. 

“There’s coffee in the kitchen,” Hutch offered, wondering what kind of mood his partner was in. 

But it seemed Starsky was still deciding. He studied Hutch sitting on the couch his expression unreadable. He stayed like that for minute, but it was long enough for Hutch to brace himself for an angry outburst. But it never came. 

“Thanks,” Starsky said quietly. Hutch smiled at how normal his friend’s tone was. Perhaps this would be a better day after all. 

“That was a good sleep,” Hutch advised warmly. “I think you needed that.” 

“Yeah… well,” Starsky paused as he poured himself a cup of coffee and took a deep drink. “I got sick of tossin’ and turnin’.” 

“Oh, I brought you a Danish. It’s on the counter,” Hutch remembered. 

“Oh, thanks.”

Deciding to allow Starsky a little privacy to eat his late breakfast, Hutch pulled the finger bookmarking his spot and returned to reading. He was shocked when a moment later Starsky sat next to him on the couch. Their knees touching it was the closest contact Starsky had allowed in months. 

Hutch wanted to say something to Starsky, maybe prompt him to finally open up, but the closeness felt nice. It felt normal, and he knew that if he started questioning Starsky it would be over and he would be on eggshells again. 

“Tell me I did the best I could, Hutch,” Starsky’s quiet desperate voice broke the silence of the room. “Tell me that I did everything I could and that it wasn’t my fault.” 

Hutch leaned forward. Abandoning the book on the coffee table he turned to Starsky. There were tears shining in his partner’s blue eyes and he looked broken. 

“You did the best you could,” Hutch affirmed definitely. “And none of this is your fault.” 

Starsky smiled sadly. He blinked and a few tears spilled down his cheeks. His heart aching for the other man, Hutch reached out and wiped at Starsky’s tears with his thumbs. But when more tears spilled over his partner's thick lashes, Hutch restrained himself from wiping them away. 

Whatever it was Starsky was feeling needed to be felt, and cleaning up tears wouldn’t erase the deep confusion and pain that was overwhelming his friend. 

Doing the only thing he could think of, Hutch opened his arms and gathered Starsky into a tight embrace. Starsky hugged back, clinging for his life. Laying his head on the strong shoulder, silent sobs took over his body. 

Chapter Three

Three Months Prior

“They said five minutes,” the uniformed officer stated as he held up arms and blocked Detective Hutchinson from crossing the street to the small one story house. 

“I’m not waiting,” Hutch growled deeply. He pulled away from the man’s touch and his fiery blue eyes dared the younger man to disagree with him. 

The young officer was uneasy, he was not prepared to stop Hutchinson from doing what he believed he needed to. If only they could wait a few more minutes. 

The uniform turned his gaze to survey the quiet neighborhood. It was mostly deserted, the mid-morning hours having called the majority of its dwellers to either school or work. 

But there were still a few remaining housewives, and, perhaps, a scattered retiree, peaking nosily through their living room curtains, trying to discern what the single police car and the two men stating outside it would be doing in their quiet neighborhood. 

“B-but, sir,” the uniform tried again. “We have orders, and the other units will be here soon.” 

But the request was in vain. Hutch was already half way across the street. 

“Fuck the orders,” he yelled over his shoulder. “If they’re in there, five minutes is too long to wait.” 

The nervous uniform watched the blonde man go, and Hutch was standing in front of the door, pulling his gun out of his holster, before the young man decided he better follow. 

“Wait,” he called out as he hurried across the street. Mid-stride he struggled to pull his own gun of its holster, and it was Hutch’s turn to be uneasy as he watched the man struggle with his weapon. 

“Are you sure you’re ready for this?” he whispered as he looked skeptically at the man. 

“Yes,” the uniform hissed. Only he knew he wasn’t, and obviously Detective Hutchinson knew it too. If only he could get his hands to stop shaking. 

“Okay then,” Hutch agreed, catching his gaze. “On three.” 

The uniform let out a heavy breath and fought the butterflies in his stomach. Why had he allowed Hutchinson commandeer his car? He was just rookie. He belonged in traffic, not breaking into houses in the suburbs trying to surprise a serial killer. 

“One… two…” 

As Hutch counted to three and kicked the door open, the uniform had one thought. Maybe his mother was right, police work wasn’t for him. Maybe he should have become an accountant. 

The entry into the home was anticlimactic, at least for Hutch and the uniform. It was way more exciting for the elderly lady who lived there. The poor woman was sitting on her couch watching soaps in her nightgown, when the two of them came barreling into the house. 

The lady screamed in shock, and the uniform let out yelp of surprise. 

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOUSE?” 

“Are you alone in this house?” Hutch shouted back, but he didn’t wait for an answer. Instead, he purposefully strode through the small living area and down the hallway. 

“Hey! You can’t go back there!” the lady shrieked following closely on his tail. “This is my house and I have rights!” 

“It’s okay, we’re cops, ma’am,” the uniform offered timidly. He clasped his hands and lingered in the living room, unsure of what to do. Still following Hutch, the woman turned and frowned at him deeply. 

“I don’t care who you are!” she yelled. “I want you out of my house and I want to know who is going to PAY for my door!” 

Finding the two back bedrooms empty, Hutch turned his flaming eyes to the woman. She stopped in her tracks, suddenly intimidated by the sight of the frantic man. 

“Do you have a basement?” the blonde demanded throwing his finger in the woman’s face. Her eyes wide and mouth agape, she nodded. 

“Where?”

“There,” woman answered. 

She pointed at the green door that could be seen through the entrance to the kitchen. She and the uniform watched as Hutch rushed to the door. Flinging it open he disappeared down the stairs. 

“Starsky!” Hutch bellowed as descended the stairs, but as soon as he made it to the bottom dread filled the pit of his stomach. 

There in the small one room basement was nothing. They had the wrong house. 

 

Current Day

“Hutchinson?” Captain Dobey’s soft voice broke the quietness of the deserted squad room. “What are you still doing here?” 

“Working,” Hutch mumbled absently as he stared at the gruesome photos spread across his desk. 

Dobey shook his head and pulled the door to his office shut. It was late. Edith was already going to have his neck for missing dinner, especially since he’d promised he’d be there. If he hurried, though, he could make home in time to tuck their daughter, Rosie, into bed. 

But seeing the defeated way Hutch was sitting at his desk, and his gaze finding what the man was so fixated on, Dobey realized his family was going to have a wait a bit longer. 

“You really shouldn’t look at those,” Dobey stopped to sit on the edge of the detective’s desk. He nodded at the pictures in front of Hutch. “It’s over. You found him, no sense in trying to relive it.” 

“Starsky does,” Hutch sighed quietly. He rested his elbows on the desk and rubbed at his face. “Every damn day. And it’s all my fault.” 

“That isn’t true,” Dobey assured. “You save him.” 

“I put him there!” Hutch insisted. His hands pulled away from his face and his expression hardened. 

“And you saved him,” Dobey finished. He reached over and gathered the photos up, anxious to get them away from Hutch’s piercing stare. “Hutchinson, despite how you mother hen him sometimes, Starsky is a grown man, and a cop. He knew what he was getting into.” 

“It wasn’t supposed to be like that,” Hutch spat, his head shaking vigorously. “He was never supposed to really get taken. He was never supposed to end up looking like that!” Hutch tore the pictures out of Dobey’s hands and they scattered across the desk in a flurry. 

Turning his gaze away from the bloody photos, Dobey struggled to control his own emotions. Knowing what had happened to Detective Starsky during his abduction was one thing, but seeing the photos that had been sent to them anonymously in the mail, as they were frantically trying to locate him and the missing girl, was another. It was torture. 

“Go home,” Dobey instructed quietly. He didn’t look at Hutch, but it didn’t matter, because Hutch had his gaze set firmly on wall in front of him, his blue eyes reflecting pain and grief. 

“Go check on your partner,” Dobey insisted. 

“He doesn’t want me there,” Hutch scoffed, he tilted his head and continued in a whisper. “Who could blame him?” 

“That isn’t true. You told me this morning how receptive he was the other day. How he opened up to you a little?” 

“Yeah,” Hutch exhaled thickly. 

Starsky had opened up to him for that brief moment on the couch, but he had closed up just as quickly. Feigning tiredness he had kicked Hutch out shortly after. 

“I mean it. You boys need to take care of each other,” Dobey insisted, resting his hands on Hutch’s shoulders and gripping tightly. Hutch leaned into the touch, grateful for the small comfort the man was offering.

“He’ll get through this,” Dobey stated firmly. “And so will you.” 

Chapter Four

Three Months Earlier

Starsky realized he was conscious again, and staring up at the dark ceiling. How long had been doing that? 

He blinked his eyes slowly and tried to move as much as his injured body would allow, but his tight muscles protested and he let out a hiss of pain. He would not be moving from his spot on the floor today. 

Everything was running together. He couldn’t remember what day it was. Or how long he had been locked in the dark basement. 

How long had it been since his captor had taken the girl?

Starsky knew he hadn’t seen her in a while. Maybe even days. And he hadn’t heard her scream since… 

When did she stop screaming? He tried to focus his fatigued mind on recalling the specific detail, but he soon found he didn’t know that either. 

She had to be dead by now. And if she wasn’t, he hoped she would be soon. At least that way she would be protected from the cruel hand of their captor. The obscene wish made Starsky feel like a monster. He was a cop and shouldn’t be hoping for such things. 

Overwhelmed by his situation and the loss the girl’s absence presented him with, Starsky shook his head and fought back a sob. He didn’t want to break down. Not here, and not like this. He was determined stay strong until the very end. 

His resolve didn’t last, however, his mind was just too exhausted to hold back any longer. Starsky found himself laying on the dirty cement floor letting out powerful retching sobs in-between desperate whispers of his partner’s name. 

“H-utch.” 

Click

*Flash* 

An obtrusive brightness filled the room, and Starsky had to close his eyes against the burning harshness. Opening them a second later, he found himself in darkness again. 

Blinking furiously, Starsky struggled to understand what was going on, but his frazzled mind was blank, and a moment later it happened again. 

Click

*Flash* 

Footsteps?

Somebody was in the darkness with him. With that realization something clicked in the back of his mind and Starsky knew what was happening. 

Pictures. Somebody was taking pictures of him. 

Click 

*Flash* 

More footsteps. Someone was walking closer to where he lay on the floor. Starsky fought terror, as his mind grasped that there was only one person who could be in the dark with him. He tried to move but found his body unwilling. It was too fatigued and compromised to allow him to change positions. 

Click 

*Flash*

Worn brown work boots stopped inches from Starsky’s head. He looked up to see his captor pull a black camera from his face. 

“What do you want from me?” Starsky croaked his voice ragged from sobbing. 

The man didn’t answer. He never answered.

As he stared down at Starsky, his eyes gleaming with insanity, his mouth cracked a wild smile. It was then it occurred to Starsky how much joy this situation was bringing the man, and it sent a shiver down his spine.

Click

*Flash* 

Starsky heard the man take one more picture, then he knew nothing at all. 

XX

Present Day 

Jolting from the unsettling nightmare, Starsky’s body hit the living room floor with a thud. He winced as the hard fall sent pain through his still tender ribs. Breathing heavily, he lay there for a moment, trying to get a hold on his surroundings and himself. 

The room was dark with exception of his active T.V. screen. He could hear the pleasant chirping of crickets through his open window mixed together with the soft dialogue of the Late Late Show. 

"You hurt yourself?" The soft question startled Starsky and he jumped. 

The thought of an intruder watching him in the darkness made his chest constrict with fear. His eyes frantically searched his semi-dark apartment, but he breathed a heavy sigh of relief when his eyes rested on a familiar form leaning against the kitchen sink.

Hutch. 

"Starsky?" Hutch whispered. Looking at him worriedly he repeated his question. "Are you okay?"

No.

"Yeah."

"Do you need help getting up?"

Yeah. 

"No… How long have you been here?" Starsky rubbed at his face with both his hands. He seemed to be asking his partner that a lot lately. 

"Oh… a little while,” Hutch answered softly before moving to stand beside his fallen friend. 

“Are you sure you don’t need help up?” he asked one more time. He tilted his head to read Starsky’s face, but the other man turned away before he could get a good look. 

“No—yes—I mean… I don’t need any help,” Starsky insisted. He groaned as he pulled himself off the floor and sank heavily into his couch. 

His chest was throbbing and he wrapped his arms around himself in an effort to work through some of the pain. He was hopeful that Hutch wouldn’t notice how much his ribs hurt. But of course he did, and Starsky found himself locked under an intense stare. 

“Do you need something for that?” Hutch asked, his forehead wrinkling with worry. 

“No,” Starsky breathed. “Just fell wrong. It’ll be okay in a second.” 

Damn ribs, Starsky mused, then frowned in pain and frustration. Jesus, even breathing hurt. Maybe he had fallen harder than he thought. 

“They still hurt pretty bad, huh?” 

Starsky shook his head. “Only when I fall off the couch,” he joked, but Hutch didn’t laugh. He didn’t even smile.

Eager for a distraction, Starsky focused his eyes on the can his partner held. 

"Don't I get a beer?" he asked. 

“Was that nap pill induced?” Hutch eyed Starsky seriously. 

“No.” 

Starsky shook his head, wondering why Hutch would ask such as silly question. If he had already taken the sleeping pills he’d still be unconscious. Those things could knock out an elephant. 

“Okay. Then you can have beer now or sleeping pills later. You can't have both,” Hutch advised authoritatively as he sat next to his partner and propped his feet on the coffee table.

It shouldn’t have been such a difficult choice, Starsky knew that, but somehow it was. A beer now would relax his active mind and probably aid in calming his angry ribs, but the sleeping pills would allow him the deep dreamless slumber he so desperately needed. In the end, Starsky chose the pills. 

“Never mind,” he said. 

“That was some dream you were having,” Hutch commented softly. Starsky knew the blonde was expecting him to say something but he couldn’t think of the right words. 

The nightmares were becoming worse, and more vivid than he could have ever thought possible. He was going to have to talk to somebody if they didn’t stop soon, but that was far from a comforting thought. 

Somewhere in the back of his head, Starsky knew he should be talking to Hutch. Talking to his partner always helped him work through pain and experiences that were too overwhelming for him to face on his own. But this hadn’t been a normal traumatic experience, and the level of terror and failure it had left him with almost seemed too personal to share. 

Sighing heavily, Starsky let go of his chest and rubbed at his hair. If only he could have held it together long enough to make it past Dobey’s prying eye, then maybe things would be different right now. 

Shit, he could be at work and not at home with too much time on his hands and nothing to think about but his time spent in the basement of horrors. 

Dobey thought he was a danger to himself and others, and Starsky knew that his breakdown in the alley coupled with his angry outburst in his superior’s office had only reinforced this thought. 

Dobey was giving him time to get his shit together. Problem was, Starsky didn’t even know where to start. He was not a stranger to people hurting people. Starsky had been a cop for years, and he’d spend enough time in ‘Nam to really know how people could damage one another. So what was it about this particular trauma that his mind was so hesitant to let go of? 

“Brought you a burrito,” Hutch said softly. Starsky smiled at the small comfort his partner was offering. A danish yesterday and a burrito today, what junk food would his friend provide for him tomorrow? 

“Thanks,” Starsky smiled, but he didn’t make any effort to move from his seat. 

As Hutch nursed his beer, he threw out a hand, resting it heavily on the darker man’s shoulder. And Starsky felt the tension in his soul ease a little in knowing his partner was so close. 

They didn’t say anything. They didn’t have to. Each man taking silent solace in the closeness of the other. But in his heart Starsky knew, whenever he was ready to talk, Hutch would be willing to listen. 

 

Chapter Five

Three Months Prior 

“They found the girl—“

“Where?” Hutch interrupted. He leaned forward in his chair and gripped the end of his superior’s desk tightly. His eyes frantic. “Is she okay?”

“Hutch,” Dobey breathed sadly, and Hutch closed his eyes in disappointment. Dobey didn’t finish his sentence, he didn’t have to. Hutch knew the girl was dead. 

“How long?” the blonde man whispered gruffly. He pressed his forehead into his hands. Did he even want to know? 

“The coroner thought two days, although he advised the autopsy report may find she’s been dead longer than that.” 

Shit.

“How’d he do it?” Hutch asked quietly, dreading the answer. 

“Same as the others—“Dobey started, but stopped when the blonde man’s face scrunched up and he looked away. 

Squeezing his eyes tight, Hutch fought anger and sadness. If the girl had been dead for two days, maybe even longer, how long would it be before someone stumbled upon Starsky’s body? 

‘Stop it.’ Hutch reprimanded himself. ‘You can’t be thinking like that.’ 

Taking a few deep breaths, Hutch collected himself. Clearing his throat, he licked his dry lips, and rubbed his hands on his jeans. 

“Don’t give up,” Dobey tried suddenly, although the statement was laughable. 

It had been two days since they had received the last horrific photo of a captive Starsky. They had no leads, no information, and no idea where Starsky could be. It was hopeless. Dobey knew it, and Hutch knew it too.

“I’m not,” Hutch whispered finally, but he couldn’t hold back the tears as they clouded his eyes. 

Wiping at his eyes and clearing the thickness from his throat, Hutch felt Dobey grip his forearm.

“We will find him,” Dobey stated firmly, but he left off the second end of his statement. One way or another, we will find him. 

And at that moment, Hutch struggled to believe his superior’s comforting words. 

 

Present Day

The squad room was alive with various voices of other officers and the frantic ringing of telephones. Any other day the noises would have been seen as an annoyance, but today, Hutch was grateful for the distraction. 

Last night had been good. And although, Starsky had chosen not to confide in him, he hadn’t kicked him out either. The pair had spent the evening in companionable silence in front of the T.V. And when the evening creeped into the early hours of the next day, Starsky had even asked him to stay. 

“Please?” Starsky had asked timidly, his eyes focused on the static filled T.V. screen. “Just sleep on the couch. Just… just in case.” 

Hutch hadn’t asked his partner ‘just in case of what?’, too preoccupied by his own happiness. Perhaps this was the end of this partner’s isolation and the beginning of his recovery, and if that was the case then maybe Hutch could do some healing of his own. 

“Of course, Starsk,” Hutch had answered as he palmed his partner’s neck. “Of course I’ll stay.” 

The night had passed by uneventful for Starsky, but it was Hutch who was plagued by nightmares.

After waking up in a cold sweat from one particularly horrific dream, Hutch spent the remaining dark hours restless. He lay awake on the couch battling the vivid images of his hurt partner and drowning in guilt over what Starsky had endured. 

No wonder Dobey hadn’t wanted his looking at those pictures again. 

Taking a gulp of this lukewarm coffee, Hutch assessed the files littering his desk. The amount of paperwork was almost overwhelming. Three months of case files that either needed signatures or supplemental information before they could be signed off by his superior and officially closed. 

Letting out a hearty sigh Hutch sat heavily and started digging through the pile. He hated paperwork, and so did Starsky, which was why the tall blonde was faced with the loathed job. But with Starsky absent from his place at his side, now was as good of a time as any to tackle the files. 

Hutch smiled, maybe he could get through all of them before Starsky returned to duty. Boy would his partner owe him. But even with the thought, Hutch knew he would never ask Starsky to make it up to him. He wouldn’t even try to make him guilty for not helping this time. Not now, not ever. 

“Hutchinson,” Dobey’s gruff voice stated from his doorway. “I thought I took you off the roaster. What are you doing here?” 

“Paperwork,” Hutch answered indicating the files. 

Dobey narrowed his eyes and looked at the stack of files. “Those better not have anything to do with Starsky or that nut job. I thought I told you to stop obsessing over that.” 

“You did,” Hutch sighed as he eyed the large man. “And I am.” 

Hutch closed his eyes and fought the sudden memories and guilt he was assaulted with. He had been doing so well at fighting them today. Why did Dobey have to bring it up again? 

“Oh,” Dobey stated his voice a bit friendlier. But still not trusting his detective’s answer, he walked to the desk and leafed through the files. Hutch let out an exasperated breath and leaned back in his chair. 

Finding none of the files hiding any information on Starsky’s case, Dobey grunted in approval. 

“You satisfied?” Hutch asked, frustration obvious in his voice. He crossed his arms and looked at his superior. 

“Yes,” Dobey stated pointing at Hutch. “Don’t get angry at me, Hutchinson, I’m just trying to help you—“ 

“Help Hutch with what?” a familiar voice asked. Dobey and Hutch looked over to see Starsky standing in front of the closed door to the squad room. 

“What are you doing here?” Hutch asked. His face reflecting the shock he had somehow managed to keep out of his voice. 

“You’re not supposed to be here,” Dobey added authoritatively. 

Starsky looked to Hutch, then to Dobey. Neither man looked happy to see him nor was it the warm welcome he had been expecting, and he started second guessing his ill thought plan of stopping by work. 

“I work here… remember?” he tried, forcing a light tone and slight grin. 

His eyes took in the room full of officers, and they were all watching. Some overt and some trying to hide their interest in the conversation between Starsky and Dobey. 

“Not right now you don’t,” Dobey advised quietly, as he, too, became aware their conversation had an audience. “Starsky, Hutch, come into my office please.” 

“No,” Starsky stated belligerently as he ground his feet to the floor. 

As Starsky’s face reflected stubborn determination, Hutch’s own fell. He started wondering if this conversation was doomed to be repeat of the one days prior. 

‘Please don’t do this, Starsk… Not again.’ 

“Please, Starsk?” Hutch asked softly looking to his partner hopefully. “Can’t we just go into his office,” he nodded at the full squad room, “have this conversation in private.” 

At first, it looked as if Starsky wouldn’t comply with the simple request. His eyes clouded over with anger and his fists clenched tightly by his sides. But a moment later the hands relaxed and so did Starsky’s features. 

“Okay,” he whispered, and neither Hutch nor Dobey could hold back their sighs of relief. 

XX 

“Can you believe that bullshit?” Starsky fumed as he pushed through the front doors of the police department. “Unfit. I’ll show him who’s unfit!” 

“Starsk,” Hutch tried, trailing behind his frantic partner as Starsky walked purposely toward the Torino in the parking lot. 

“He can’t make me talk to somebody!” Starsky continued. “He can’t make me do that!” 

“Starsky—“

“Who does he think he is anyway—“ 

“Starsky!” Hutch commanded his livid partner. “Can’t we just talk about this? I mean, what’s the problem—” 

“What’s the problem?” Starsky yelled as he abruptly turned and focused an accusing stare at his partner. “The problem, buddy, is that I don’t want to talk about what happened, and no amount of coddling or therapy is going to change that!”

“Oh, come on, Starsky!” Hutch yelled back as he lost hold on his own anger. “You’re blowing this out of proportion. Think about what you went through. Think about your actions since you were released from the hospital. You haven’t exactly been acting sane.” 

“This is because of you, isn’t it?” Starsky accused his voice dangerously quiet. 

“What?” Hutch breathed, flinching at the accusation. Everything that happened to you was my fault. Buddy, I am so sorry.

It wasn’t until Starsky continued that Hutch realized they were thinking about two separate things. 

“You’ve been keeping tabs on me,” Starsky fumed his face disgusted. “And here I just thought you were tryin’ to be my friend. Checkin’ in on me. Bringing me food,” he let out a sarcastic laugh and nodded at the blonde. “Some friend you turned out to be.” 

Mouth agape and heart stinging from the bitter words of his bi-polar partner, Hutch could only watch as the other man got in his vehicle and sped away. 

Chapter Six

Three Months Prior

Unfocused eyes staring up at the ceiling, Starsky found himself wondering how much time as passed since he moved from his spot. All strength had left his body, and strange numbness had replaced the intense pain he had felt previously. 

The end was near but Starsky felt strangely calm, and at peace with the situation. He had been unable to protect the girl and the punishment of death seemed oddly fitting. He failed to do his job correctly and now he would accept the consequences.

The house was quiet. Starsky hadn’t seen the man for quite some time, and he wondered if he had finally outlived his usefulness for the creep. Maybe he was being left alone to die. After all, Starsky was a thirtysomething, dark haired male, not exactly the guy’s preferred choice for one of his abductees. 

Maybe the creep was still deciding on whether or not he wanted to kill him in the same special manner he reserved for the girls he took. Either way it didn’t matter, Starsky would soon be dead, regardless of if the man chose to take his life by his hand or not. 

Still… it was strange, the things Starsky’s mind fixated on, now that he knew with certainty that he would die. 

The way his mother used to hold him in her arms when he was a small child. 

How strong his father’s arms had looked as he held on to shaky handlebars the day he had taught Starsky to ride a bicycle. 

The way Nicky and he had argued. God, they just never could get along. Starsky felt a pang of regret, knowing they wouldn’t get a chance to try now. 

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Starsky registered footsteps from the floor above. And then gunshots that sounded miles away, but his mind returned to his memories. The things he wanted most to remember. 

The loudness of Captain Dobey’s voice when he was really pissed him off. 

The funny squeaky laugh Hutch made when he thought something was really funny. 

And the smell of brand new leather seats the day he had drove the Torino off his uncle’s car lot. He hoped Hutch would decide to keep her when he was gone. God knew his partner needed a new ride. Hopefully it wouldn’t be too painful for the man to drive, maybe he could just focus on the good times they had. And there were so many good times to remember. 

Starsky’s eyes felt dry, and darkness was dancing behind his eyelids. There were footsteps barreling down the basement stairs, but Starsky paid them little mind. Nothingness was creeping closer and closer and he felt an odd floating sensation. 

Just before he lost consciousness, he thought he heard a familiar voice and someone grasp his face. 

“Starsky!” 

XX 

Present Day

Starsky jumped at the abrupt knocking, and he looked at his front door wondering if he’d imagined the sound. But after a moment another knock reached his ears. It was firmer and followed by a familiar voice. 

“Starsky?” 

Hutch. 

“Starsky open the door.” 

The tone was demanding and Starsky closed his eyes. His stomach filled with a feeling that was somewhere between relief and dread. Hutch’s presence was always a comforting one, but Starsky was fairly certain he’d pushed his friend a little too far today, especially after showing up to the station that afternoon then leaving just as suddenly. And he had been so mean to the other man. 

Taking a few breaths to gather himself, Starsky moved to the door, but he wasn’t quick enough. He heard a mumbled swear followed by the jingling of keys, and the door opened the moment he reached it. 

“Have you just been standing there the whole time?” Hutch asked in exasperation. 

Flinching at the statement, Starsky didn’t answer. Instead, he took in his partner. Hutch’s shoulders were slightly slumped and he looked exhausted, but there was a glint of irritation in his eyes and Starsky could tell he was trying not to lose his temper. 

“Well?” Hutch prompted his frustration seeping into his voice. 

“Sorry,” Starsky offered. He pointed to the box in his partner’s hand. “You brought pizza?” 

“Yeah, and it’s hot,” Hutch answered masking his frustration with a small smile. He walked over and rested the box on the coffee table. 

“You haven’t eaten have you?” Hutch asked wiping his greasy hands on his brown cords.

“Uh, no,” Starsky admitted as he sat on the couch. Flipping the box open to see a pepperoni pizza, Starsky struggled to remember when he had eaten last, but Hutch must have had the same thought. 

“Have you eaten anything besides coffee today, buddy?” 

Standing in the kitchen, Hutch took a beer from the fridge, then pulled a plate from the cupboard. Grabbing some napkins from the counter, he walked back to the living room. 

“Um, yeah,” Starsky lied. 

Hutch sunk in the couch beside him and looked at him doubtfully. He knew Starsky was lying, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he handed Starsky plate and loaded it up with a couple of pieces, before leaning back and cracking his beer. 

“Don’t I get a beer?” Starsky asked. He looked to the full plate and then to the beer in Hutch’s hand. Despite skipping meals, the pizza didn’t look appetizing. The beer on the other hand…

“Nope,” Hutch shook his head, and gave him an odd look. “You can’t mix alcohol and sleeping pills… I told you that yesterday.” 

But Starsky wondered for a second if Hutch really told him that the day before. Surely somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered him doing so, but for some strange reason the knowledge wasn’t coming as readily to him in that moment. 

“Aren’t you going to eat any?” Starsky asked nodding at the pizza. 

“Nope. I ate at the station.” Hutch took another drink then rested the can on his kneecap holding it with one hand as the other rubbed absently at the open collar of his shirt. 

“Oh.” 

Starsky held back a sigh. He wasn’t hungry, and the smell of the pizza was making him feel a little sick, or maybe it was just the after effects of his afternoon meltdown making him feel queasy. 

He looked at Hutch who was looking at the T.V. His partner had yet to comment on his rude words, and Starsky wondered if he would. 

Starsky hadn’t meant a word he’d said, not really. He was frustrated and grappling for some sort of control over a world that seemed so upside-down. And if Dobey wasn’t going to take any more of his anger and bull-shit it then there really was only one person left to let loose on: Hutch. 

But right then, sitting on the couch, poor Hutch looked as worn out as Starsky felt. Starsky watched as his partner slouched down into the cushions and took another sip of beer. 

Feeling the need to make some sort of amends, Starsky opened his mouth to apologize, but no words came out. He couldn’t think of anything to say. Starsky suddenly recognized couldn’t make things right with his partner any more than he was capable of making things right with himself. 

“Starsky,” Hutch blurted softly. “I—I’m sorry.” 

“What?” Starsky’s stomach lurched and his shocked face turned to his partner. Well, this was a surprise. He expected Hutch to let loose on him not apologize. 

“Jesus, Hutch…” he continued in a shocked whisper. “I’m the one walking ‘round here like a crazy person. Flip floppin’ from one second to the next. What the hell do you have to be sorry for?” 

Still staring at the T.V., Hutch didn’t answer. He took another drink before biting his bottom lip. His blue eyes reflected a deep sadness, and it was then Starsky realized he wasn’t the only one struggling with what happened. 

“Hutch?” Starsky prompted, his own problems momentarily forgotten. He reached his hand out to rest it on his partner’s leg. “What’s going on?” 

“This whole thing is my fault,” Hutch admitted, his voice straining. He paused clearing his throat and rubbing at his face with one hand. “It’s all my fault,” shaking his head bitterly he whispered, “all over a fuckin’ coin toss.” 

Starsky closed his eyes, another realization dawning on him at his partner’s words. 

Shit. He had been too caught up in his own hurt and grief and had completely lost track of his what his partner must have been feeling. 

“Hey,” Starsky gripped the leg harder. “It’s okay, Blintz… Really it is. It was a stupid coin toss. I could have picked heads and this could have just as easily been you—“ 

“But it wasn’t!” Hutch exclaimed. He looked to his partner with tear filled eyes. “It was you. A—and I couldn’t find you.” 

“Ya found me in the end,” Starsky offered with a small smile. 

“Yeah,” Hutch scoffed. “Just in time…Barely.” 

“You saved me.” 

“No. No I didn’t,” Hutch denied firmly. His tears found their way down his cheeks and he swiped at them angrily. “I couldn’t save you when that monster had you,” he whispered thickly, “and even now—now that you’re home and you’re safe—even now, I can’t seem to save you.” 

Struggling his own tears and a proper response to Hutch’s omission, Starsky looked down at the floor. This was it. He had to say something. Hutch needed him to say something. Hutch needed him to talk about what happened, even if he didn’t feel ready. 

The epiphany was troublesome, yet freeing at the same time. He wasn’t alone in this. Hutch was here with him, sitting beside him. And Starsky knew confiding his own guilt for the situation was the only way to set Hutch free of his responsibility, but somehow he still couldn’t find the words. 

How do you put that kind of pain into words? 

“She was only 11 years-old, Hutch.” The soft tearful words tumbled out of his mouth before he could stop them. “And I promised her I would save her,” he sobbed as his hand left his partner’s leg and rubbed through his thick curls. 

Mouth agape, Hutch looked at his partner. He wanted to say something to alleviate the other man’s hurt, but he didn’t. Too afraid that any words would ruin the moment and return Starsky his quiet brooding. 

“Never mind what he did to me…The things he did to her,” Starsky continued with the shudder, his handsome features pained. “I just wish I could forget it.” 

Blue eyes soft with understanding, Hutch’s hand found his partner’s shoulder and squeezed gently. 

“Tell me,” he requested softly. 

Chapter Seven

Present Day 

“Tell Me,” Hutch repeated softly. He gave his partner’s shoulder a firm squeeze, and Starsky found himself choking back a sob. 

“I don’t know where to start,” Starsky hedged weakly. Pulling his shoulder away from Hutch’s hand, he fidgeted in his seat and rubbed his hands on his thighs nervously. The impending conversation was making him panic and he fought the urge to abandon it completely and run from the room.  
“How about at the beginning?” Hutch suggested his voice strong and reassuring. He reached his hands out and placed them on his partner’s, putting an end to the nervous movement. Starsky’s hands were shaking and Hutch gripped them tight. “Just take your time.” 

Starsky took a deep shaky breath and nodded. His exhausted mind trying to make sense of when his ordeal had started. His face scrunched up as he struggled to recall the series of events. 

“How’d he grab you?” Hutch prompted noting his partner’s confusion. 

“I—I don’t remember,” Starsky pursed his lips and shook his head. “I—I think he hit me with somethin’, but I don’t know for sure.” 

“Then what happened?” 

“I don’t know,” Starsky whispered. “I just remember waking up in that fuckin’ basement. It was cold, and he had me chained to the wall,” he trailed off shaking his head again, the memory stinging a bit. 

When Hutch didn’t prompt him for more, Starsky looked up to find his partner staring at the wall behind his head. His jaw was clenched and there were tears shining in his eyes.

And it was then Starsky knew Hutch was struggling to stay strong for him. But he also knew something else, as hard as it was for him to tell the story about what happened it was going to be just as hard for Hutch to hear it. 

Taking a deep breath and gathering what little courage he could muster, Starsky continued, “he was a fuckin’ nut, Hutch. It wasn’t so much the physical stuff… I mean. I’ve been beaten up before… but it was the games he played. Jesus, there would be times, I would think I was alone, but he’d only be hidin’ in a corner watching me. And other times I was sure I was alone, and then he would start takin’ pictures…” 

“I know,” Hutch confided. Starsky looked at him with a mixture of grief and anxiety on his face. 

“He sent them to us,” Hutch whispered sadly. The knowledge was almost too much to handle and Starsky looked at the floor. He could only imagine what Hutch must have been going through, being forced to see what he was enduring and being powerless to stop it. 

“Shit, Hutch,” he offered thickly. “I’m sorry you had to see those.” 

“It’s okay,” Hutch answered, a few tears spilling down his cheeks. It was far from okay, but Starsky didn’t need to hear that at the moment. 

None of what had happened was okay. 

Six young girls, along with whatever was left of both partners’ faith in humanity, gone in an instant. All taken by the socially awkward unassuming landscaper whom had serviced the girl’s neighborhoods, respectively, for years.

One small connection that Starsky and Hutch had struggled so hard to make. But once they did, a fateful coin toss had sent Starsky to face the murderer alone.

It was supposed to be simple. Easy. Starsky had headed in the front door of the abandoned house and Hutch circled to the back. It would be quick, just like any other bust they’d made before.

Easy. Hutch scoffed. That word troubled him now. They had been so stupid. So arrogant. They had no idea what the landscaper was capable of and Starsky had paid the price. 

It was never supposed to be like this. 

The landscaper was completely insane, they knew that going in. He was hardly capable of holding a conversation let alone successfully abducting and hiding a grown man. Even now, Hutch believed the landscaper should have never been capable of it. But somehow he was, and both he and Starsky were gone before Hutch even busted through the back door of the house.

None of it had made a bit of sense and absolutely nothing about it had been easy. 

“She was there, Hutch,” Starsky continued his rough voice rescuing Hutch from the past. “In his fucking care trunk… the whole damn time,” he pulled his hands from his partner’s grasp. “If we woulda just taken a second to look…” he stopped his voice catching on a sob. “We woulda known. We wouldn’t have had to go in the house… and… and she would be here now. None of this would have happened.” 

“Babe,” Hutch whispered his voice deep. “I’m sorry… I—I’m so sorry.” 

Starsky made a pained sound and let out a shuddering breath. He took a moment to gather himself and wipe at his tears, before grasping Hutch’s hand in his own and meeting the other man’s eyes. 

“I told you,” he whispered thickly. “This isn’t your fault.” 

Hutch shook his head bitterly. “Yeah,” he scoffed. “So suppose it’s all yours then?” 

“I’m the one who couldn’t save her,” Starsky shrugged sadly. Still holding on to his partner’s hand, he leaned back on the couch, and the two men sat side by side. 

“Somebody killed him, though. I think I heard the shots before I passed out that last time,” Starsky broke the silence his voice a bit stronger. He turned his head and considered Hutch. His partner didn’t even blink. “Was that you?” he whispered. 

“Yes.” 

“I think I knew that,” Starsky whispered. “Somewhere in the back of my mind.”

“Starsky,” Hutch stated still looking at the wall in front of him. “Tell me what he did to the girl.” 

Starsky’s stomach did a flip flop and he fought back another wave of tears. He didn’t want to talk about the girl, but he knew it was inevitable. The story of the girl was haunting. Leaving Starsky troubled by everything he knew and everything he didn’t.

Starsky knew all about what the landscaper did to his victims and so did Hutch. The case files on the previous victims serving as a dictionary of the man’s sadistic behavior. It was always the same. Vicious and repeated beatings over the course of weeks only in the end to have their throats slit and left to bleed out what little blood they had left. 

But reading about the horrific events in a case file and finding a body after the fact was one thing, being forced to listen while it was happening and being incapable of stopping it was something else altogether. 

“I don’t know everything,” Starsky admitted, his throat burning from fighting tears. “He didn’t hurt her in front of me. He always took her upstairs, then brought her back after. But… but I could hear her scream,” he grimaced and wiped at his impending tears. “At first she screamed for him to stop. After a while she started screaming for her parents, but at the end… at the end she screamed for me.” 

Tears coming in earnest now, Starsky looked away from Hutch. He felt Hutch’s hand leave his own and the loss of contact made him feel panicked. His head hanging he let out a deep sob, but then he felt his partner’s strong arms encircle him. 

“Starsky…” Hutch whispered into his partner’s curly hair. He wanted to offer his destroyed friend more but his voice failed him as he fought his own tears.  
His heart was aching for the young girl who was so tragically taken and for his sensitive partner whom had been forced to endure her death while waiting for his own. 

Hutch thought about Starsky. His erratic behavior, his destructive anger and even his horrible nightmares. All a reaction to the mental anguish that his partner didn’t know what to do with. But in that moment, Hutch thought that maybe he could sympathize with his partner’s helplessness. After all, if Starsky had been killed wouldn’t he be doing the same thing? 

Suddenly, Hutch thought of the pictures and the trauma he had had been faced with while he was frantically trying to find Starsky. It was the same situation just drastically different circumstances. Both partners had been forced watch as someone was slowly being taken from the earth and each had been powerless to stop it. 

It was then Hutch understood. To help Starsky with his guilt over the girl was the only way to help himself, because it was the same. Their hurt was the same hurt. 

“Starsky,” Hutch whispered firmly as his sobbing partner clung to him. He found himself relaying the same words of comfort Captain Dobey had offered him weeks before. “None of this was your fault. You couldn’t have done anything differently. It will be okay. You will recover from this.” And so will I. 

And it was then, while holding his sobbing partner, Hutch finally allowed himself to cry. 

 

Epilogue: 

Entering the dark establishment, Starsky squinted as his eyes adjusted. It was moment before he located his blonde partner sitting at the bar. Hutch was nursing a beer and deep in conversation with Huggy. 

Pulling himself tall, he made his way over to his friends. Huggy smiled as their eyes met and Hutch turned in his seat to assess him. 

“Well?” Hutch asked an impatient smile tugging at his lips. 

“I’m back!” Starsky grinned widely. He spread his jacked open to reveal his gun and holster strapped firmly to his side. 

“Ha, ha!” Hutch laughed giddily. He leaned forward in his seat and grasped his partner by the shoulders. “See, I told you that shrink was nothing to be afraid of.” 

“Nope,” Starsky smiled back. And it hadn’t been, although telling Hutch the whole story first certainly had helped him become comfortable enough with his ordeal to share it with a stranger. 

“It wasn’t a big deal at all. Just talked some things over and she—“

“She?” Hutch asked his eyebrows shooting up in curiosity, he waved his hand at his partner. “I thought you we’re going to see the guy on staff? What’s his name?” 

Starsky pulled out of Hutch’s grasp and sat next to him. 

“Dr. Pryce,” Starsky supplied with a grin. 

“Yeah! Mr. Nice Pryce,” Hutch added with a grin of his own. “God what happed to him?” 

“Donno, but Evelyn Murphy is staff now. I’m back on but I gotta do two more sessions before she or Dobey are gonna let me off the hook,” Starsky paused to smile at Huggy as he deposited beers in front of both partners, “hey, thanks, Hug.” 

“My pleasure,” the bar owner smiled. “Glad to see you back my man.” 

“Thanks, Hug.” 

“It’s good to have you back partner,” Hutch wrapped his arm around Starsky and pulled him close for a moment. “Just in time too. That stack of files on your desk isn’t getting any smaller.” 

Starsky’s face fell. “I thought you took care of those,” he objected his previous excitement dwindling.

“No,” Hutch shrugged and gave him a lopsided grin. “I did my half.” 

“Your half? What have you been doing all the time I’ve been off! In case you forgotten, we’re partners. What happened to you carry me and I’ll carry you?” 

“Hey!” Hutch interrupted his finger finding its way to Starsky’s face. “I was all for carrying you, but there is a limit! And I draw the line at your disorganized report writing!” 

“Disorganized! Ha!” 

Letting out a heavy sigh, Huggy rolled his eyes. He turned away from the argument to hide his smile from the two bickering partners. The road may have been a little rocky for a while but things were going to fine. 

Huggy cringed as Starsky’s voice escalated, and Hutch reacted, his own voice becoming louder. Letting out a chuckle Huggy busied himself behind the bar. Yep, things were back to normal and Starsky and Hutch were going to be just fine. 

 

END


End file.
